Toys Just Break In The End
by SyrenHug
Summary: They told you to pick a path, a way to go in life. But you stood there in the middle and waited. For what, you don't know, but you waited. And everyone chose but you never did. Horio/Ryoma


I dedicate this to Ciel D. Your great so stay that way. -_-;; (Haha, tag your it)

I was going to put Tezuka in here but then I decided that I would probably just end up mocking him and I don't think_ someone _(cough cough Meadow Woods) would appreciate it.

Warnings: Um. Self harm. Language? Sex, but awkward sex because that's the what I'm good at. Rin's mouth? Horio's self esteem. God, Horio your perfect, ugh.

* * *

_End of Third Year_

"I just want to try something." Was what he said the first time he kissed you. The lips that descended on yours were slack but warm. It was an experiment; you could feel it in every curve of his body around yours. The locker you were being forced against hurt but you allowed it because it was him.

He pulled away after a mintute, eyes narrowed into slits. You waited because you thought he was going to explain what it had been for. But he just shook his head and left. As if you didn't even deserve to be spoken to.

And that's when you started existing.

* * *

_Freshmen Year _

You talk. It's something you do and you can do it well. There's no expectation. You move your lips like your going to kiss and words come out. No one really listens anyway so it's not like it matters. It's not like you matter.

And if you talk loud enough, if you say too much, one day maybe someone will actually hear you.

* * *

He watches you during tennis practice. Doesn't come over or try to speak. No, he plays matches with the senpai's and watches. You try to ignore it but he has the kind of gaze you can't disregard. Momo almost makes a joke about it but decides not to at the last minute. This is something untouchable in its inevitability, really.

* * *

It's cliché. He's Echizen Ryoma tennis champ and you're the loud kid who sits in the middle of the class and steals attention any way he can. So it's not surprising. You should be flattered and you are. But it hurts a little. Even though you don't want to let it, it always hurts to know you're not a first choice.

* * *

The first time you have sex is terrible. He's rough and your weak and it _hurts._ You try to concentrate on other things. The emptiness of your room. The emptiness of your house. When's the last time you saw your sister? When's the last time someone asked how you are? Ryoma bites your neck. Hard. You blink. He's sweating, the raw scent of it so strong you can almost taste it. It reminds you of tennis.

"You know," He thrusts once, twice, five times and you wince. The bed makes an uncomfortable creak. "You could participate."

If you were someone else you would say something witty. "Well, I would if you could do this better." It trails on your tongue but he hits a weird spot and you make a sound that would do a cat proud. In the darkness of your room you dig out the start of a smile. And you admit that you're not someone else. So you moan and arch like the good little boy you are.

* * *

You're not stupid but school is boring. Nothing about it holds your interest. There's too many numbers and words and people. It all gets lost somewhere in your head. All you can think about is how much bigger everything else is then you and how, even if you did try, it probably wouldn't be enough in the end.

* * *

"Horio." You jump from your spot, quickly picking up a ball next to you. Fuji's smile grows. There's something about him that makes you uneasy.

"Gomen. I-"

"You've been watching him." He interrupts then turns to area of the court Ryoma is practicing in. He looks bored. But, then, Ryoma always looked bored when it came to tennis. You shift, bouncing on your feet in your own nervous form of the split step.

"He's a good tennis player."

Fuji blinks sharply at the vague comment and the striking blue of his eyes makes an appearance. You look behind him when you realize that Ryoma's taken an interest in your engagement. You feel a rush of power suddenly but then stomp it away until it chokes. Why would Ryoma be interested in anything your doing?

"Yes, he is." Fuji walks away smoothly. But his expression is calculated enough that you can't compress a shudder.

* * *

Ryoma's eyes are hazel. You'd never noticed before but when he's frustrated or angry or feeling passionate about anything they glitter like the most flawed diamonds. _He_ glitters like a flawed diamond. It's fascinating. And you welcome it because you know.

You can recognize someone breaking from a mile away.

* * *

"What are you doing?" He asks, resting his head between his elbows. You flicker your gaze between your notebook and his lithe body under the covers. His covers for a change. It's uncomfortable being at his house. Especially with his father right downstairs. You fiddle with a pencil, the light tapping of it against your hand making a satisfyingly piercing sound.

"I'm bored."

"Then do something." He suggests, exasperated, but you catch the hint of suggestiveness underneath it. You almost laugh. Subtlety does not become him.

"I need to get home."

He snorts. It's harsh enough that you ache. "No, you don't. There's nobody there- and could you fucking stop tapping that!"

The pencil rolls to the floor.

"You're so annoying sometimes."

You want to ask, _then why do you fuck me_? But just get up, bending to get the pencil off the floor. You ignore the protests of your lower back and quickly throw on your clothes. There's nothing remotely appealing about your body. You can scratch that off the list of reasons why he chose you.

It's unnecessary but you say, with your hand on the door knob, "I'm leaving."

He stares straight ahead. Impassive. The pencil on his desk lies vertically from all the rest. Just like you.

* * *

It's stupid and you would never say it out loud, but people like him, people who shine so obnoxiously bright even someone who's never seen light before could recognize it, make you want to believe in God.

* * *

Ryoma doesn't show up the last day of freshmen year.

* * *

In the summer he visits you sporadically. Weeks will pass then you'll see him so much that it's like you're oxygen and he's forgotten how to breath. His father dismisses you as soon as you meet but it's nothing new so you shake it off.

There are moments when Ryoma forgets. He forgets that he is something better, something God-like, and you are less. He forgets to remember and tells you things. And even when he stays silent you learn to read him like a classic novel.

"Horio."

You turn your head and yawn. It's late, you're tired. Why is he still awake? "Hmmm."

He whispers into your pillow. "You know this isn't going to last."

You tense but you wonder why because you already knew this, _you already knew._ Maybe it's because he said in the air of your room where you like to pretend that someone will actually care about you one day. Maybe it's because you are scared of the truth which is a dumb thought because your not.

You press your eyes closed so tightly you can feel your forehead stretch. "I know."

* * *

You don't see him the rest of the summer.

* * *

_Sophomore Year_

It doesn't surprise you when school starts up again and word gets around that _the _Echizen Ryoma is dating _the_ Fuji Syusuke.

They fit. Even though Ryoma is angular, sharply cut like a shard of glass and Fuji is round, all smooth curves and proportional lines. There's the faint sound of clicking somewhere. They fulfill that adrenaline. The thrill they're both so recklessly seeking.

But you wonder if they realize that they can't live on that rush forever.

* * *

You're in such a hurry to get to tennis practice after school you bump into a girl on your way out. She teeters but you put a hand on her arm so she'll steady. It takes you a moment but you recognize her. Sakuno. The girl who's notoriously in love with Ryoma.

You avoid her gaze. "Gomen."

She waves her hand in the air frantically. She's changed her hair. Instead of two braids on either side of her head it's lying down flat, hitting just past her shoulders. She's pretty. You hope someone will notice before she starts to think she's not. "It's fine. I'm just trying to get to the art room."

"You draw?"

Sakuno blushes but nods. Pleased your interested enough to ask. "Yes."

"I wish I could draw," Not untrue true, actually. You wish you could do a lot of things. "I bet you're a great artist."

"Oh, no. Hardly. But it's relaxing."

You start to comment but then you remember why you bumped into her in the first place. Tennis practice. You give her a little salute, jogging backwards. "Sorry, I have to go. Practice. See ya later."

She waves and the last thing you see is her bright smile.

* * *

Fuji gives you fifty laps. Because you're late and it's not the time to be slacking and he just really doesn't like you. Well, he doesn't actually say the last part but you can read between the lines. It's all a bunch of bullshit honestly. Tezuka only gave thirty laps_ maximum_ for tardiness.

Even Ryoma raises an eyebrow at it.

But you get it. Jealousy's a bitch.

* * *

"Horio?"

You turn from the door way to your teacher. Ryoma brushes past you expressionlessly. He hasn't looked at you properly since the summer. "Sensei?"

He beckons you forward, shuffling the papers on his desk more as something to do then anything. You stare at the traces of grey on top of his head and he smiles at you warmly. It surprises you but you smile back. It's been awhile since you've tried it.

"Your last paper was great." He folds his hands. Leans back in his chair. Studies you like your the material for next week's test. The compliment is unexpected. But you're good at pretending.

"Arigato. I worked hard on it."

Which is a lie. There was the straining effort of twenty minutes. And you were doodling for about half it. But something in his gaze renders you unable to disappoint. He catches it, though, the sound of falsehood.

"Well," He sighs and you've lost him. A new personal record. Accomplishments: 1. "Keep up the good work."

"Sure."

"And, Horio?" You blink. "I wish I could fly too."

* * *

Fuji states, as soon as you rush in, "Fifty laps."

"My sensei wanted to speak to me after class."

His smile morphs into a smirk. Oishi backs away. Kikumaru decides he has better things to do. Ryoma gaze flits away like a butterfly. You try to ignore the wound that reopens at the blatant denial of anything regarding you. If it was possible to hate him you would.

"Fifty laps. Argue with me again and you'll get ten more added on."

"Hai, buchou." Fuji tilts his head to the side expectantly.

"Waiting for something?"

You take off running.

* * *

You get an F on your next paper.

* * *

Your sister Rin is brash, crude. She doesn't think before she speaks and expects everyone else to be the same way. Maybe it's a rebellion against your mother who, before she died, used to be so controlled. Maybe it's just because your not. It doesn't matter because she's all you have left and you're all she has left so you both make the best of it. It's not a lot but it's something.

She stalks into your room one morning wearing the kind of expression that means someone (you) is most likely (definitely) going to leave embarrassed, tired or pissed off (or all three).

"So where's your boyfriend?"

You roll on your stomach and groan. "Please go away."

She chuckles. "So he decided to find another fuck-buddy, huh?"

"Kami, please make it stop."

"Is that what you said in bed with him? Because now I get why he broke up with you."

You lift your head, pulling out one of your pillows and throwing it in her direction. She just laughs again. Why is she even here? "Aren't demons incapable of being in daylight?"

"I'm not a vampire, Horio."

"Might as well be. You suck enough things to be one." You mumble then rush out of her way when she grabs for you. The bathroom door makes a loud sound when you shut it. You lock the door quickly. Rin is scary when she's riled up.

* * *

You've always wished you could fly. It's a weird thing to want but there's something appealing about being able to take off whenever you want to. And the sky is so vast, limitless. There must more options. There must be something for you out there. It's a nice thought and you hold on to it when you're cold.

* * *

It's chilly on the last day of school. Ryoma spends practice with his teeth chattering audibly because he's forgotten his jacket. Fuji just turns away and pretends his boyfriend doesn't exist.

You want to ask Ryoma how feels to finally be on the receiving end of nastiness.

* * *

He shows up on your doorstep hours later practically blue in the face. He makes a lonely figure and it hits that you could close the door; you could refuse to accept whatever it is he's trying to sell you. You could do it. But he lifts his eyes. Boring brown eyes stare back at you.

You let him in.

"You're so cold." You put a hand to his forehead and he leans into it slightly. His eyelashes flutter close but you have to warm him up or he'll get sick. You kiss his cheek. He makes a soft noise of surprise.

"Come on. I'll start a bath."

The sound of water pouring encourages his sleepiness but when it's finished running he doesn't look hesitant to get in. Suddenly, he stops in his process of pulling off his shirt. You cock your head then reach forward to help him. He's freezing and you shiver when your hand accidentally brushes against his stomach. When he tugs his pants down you look away. Then you notice he's still shuddering.

"I can push you in if you want."

He blinks slowly.

"It was a joke. I'm leaving." You cringe internally because you've said the same words before. But you go anyway.

* * *

"Ryoma?"

You stare at his arm. A long, irritated, slash mark decorates the tan skin and he rolls down his sleeve to cover it. But it's too late because you've seen it and now you'll always imagine it there. He burrows deeper into the covers, facing away from you. His hair is still wet and he smells like your sister's shampoo.

But the scent of blood is overpowering.

* * *

If it's possible to memorize a human being, to tear the pages out of their book and sew them into yours so well that one almost couldn't tell the difference between them, if it's possible to take someone's pain and mix it with yours until you can feel it boiling under your skin as a constant, then that's what you do. That's what you do with Ryoma.

* * *

"Does your dad not care that you're always here?" You ask one afternoon. You're trying to write but the sound of his quiet is distracting. He's staring out the window, fingering his arm. Restless.

"No." Ryoma straightens then goes, "I want to play tennis."

He says it every once and awhile and you humor him. It ends the same way every time, though. You get to the courts, serve and he remembers. You're not him. The almighty Fuji is with Tezuka now. The perfect pair. But not.

You move towards him. Carefully, you touch the area where his fingers are. Sometimes you can hear him count the lines. And sometimes you count with him. One for blood, two for love, three for sex, and four for hits. You wish you could make him stop. He frowns as if he knows what you're thinking and starts to pull out of your grip. You draw away first like you've always been taught. Try for a smile.

"I'll get my racquet."

* * *

You submerge from sleep to someone shaking your shoulder. "Wake up."

"Rin?" You murmur then open your eyes to her unreadable expression.

"Why is there blood on my razor?"

* * *

It takes two days for the right words to form. Which is funny because your you and it shouldn't be hard. You suggest a walk to nowhere in particularly. He agrees. The sun is out. Rin's gone. She decided to let you handle everything on your own.

It's hard not to watch him. The way his shirt fits loosely on his shoulders. The unconscious swagger of his steps. He moves as if he always knows where he's going next and you envy that. Your shoes make a scuffing sound against the pavement and you stop, tugging him into motionlessness.

"I think you should stop."

He raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"Hurting yourself," Ryoma turns. A leaf falls from a tree, missing his hair by an inch. "I think you should stop."

"It's not really any of your business."

You clench the hand on your side. "You used my sister's razor."

He moves quickly and you don't expect him shoving you into the grass hard enough that you know something will bruise. His eyes are unbearably hazel again. When he looms over you can feel the ever-present coldness of his body and you wonder if he'll ever really shake off the winter. "Why do you care so much? _Why do you care?_"

"Because it's you."

It's quite possibly the most honest thing you've ever said in your life. Ever. He stares at you, mystified, but then he's scrambling up and running through the trees and you hate him so much you love him.

* * *

Rin talks to you a few days later. She tells you that people like Ryoma always break eventually because they spend their whole life as toys for others that they forget that they own themselves. They forget that they matter. It reminds you of yourself and you spend the rest of the summer aching.

* * *

_Junior Year_

You and Sakuno spend hours after school outside listening to each other not speak. You already do enough of it; she's tired after the day. It works. Some days you catch her looking at you like she could settle, like she could be okay with just you. Second best.

And that makes it hurt even more.

* * *

Your sister gets a phone call from Ryoma's father telling her that Ryoma's been sent to the hospital because he slit his writs and almost bled to death. You don't know why but when you hear you walk to your room and just laugh. It's hysterical and insane but it's the best you can do without crying.

* * *

Hospitals remind you of your father. When he died he gripped your hand tightly and looked up at white walls. What he saw was a blank sheet of paper, the soft cotton of shirts. You hate the sterility of everything. Nothing natural should be so clean.

Ryoma's room is different. There are yellow walls and bright flowers. It's the overcompensating of the color that Ryoma does not have in his cheeks. He doesn't notice when you walk in but when he does he pretends he doesn't.

You're so mad you can feel the rush of blood in your head and you want to hurt him and heal him all at once. Is that what love is? A contradiction of feelings. As in, something does not exist unless there is an opposite of it. Love and hate. Fire and ice. Best and worse. It's stupid.

"So you tried to kill yourself, huh? I bet that was fun."

He makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat. "God, Horio."

"You deserve it."

"What- What do I deserve?"

You look at the bandages on his wrists at the same time he does. Is he counting in his head still? Five for temptation, six for damnation, seven for perseverance, eight for spirit. Did he cut to the rhythm of a song? Did he try to end himself to a picture of Fuji and Tezuka in his head? You ignore his question and ask one of your own. "Why did you do it?"

Ryoma says to the ceiling, "I don't know."

It's not enough. You want to push, pull, and strain against everything he's every thought about anything. He winces when you sit down on his bed. The monitors beep, beep, beep to let everyone know he's still breathing.

"Was it because of Fuji?"

"No, I-" He face twists like he's about to cry. "I dedicated years into loving him, loving both of them, and I get a year. A year. And he doesn't even say good-bye when he leaves. I just wonder."

"About?"

"I wonder if I've ever really done anything for myself before."

You wonder too. "I know what it's like to spend a long time on a person who doesn't realize how much it means."

Ryoma's forehead scrunches together. It takes him a minute and then he pales, struggles with it. "Horio-"

But you're already rising, ready to fly away and pretend. You should become an actor. You're just that good. "I need to get back home. Rin will worry."

He opens his mouth but then he finds the walls. Purity. Maybe that's what they're supposed to represent. Cleanliness. The act of getting better, of ridding the dirtiness out of your system. But it's rooted too deep in some people, you muse, that sometimes you can't get it out. Sighing, you reach over and kiss Ryoma on the forehead. He closes his eyes.

"Maybe it's best if I don't see you for awhile." You suggest.

He nods tightly. His jaw is working it out, reliving some of the tension that the air is stirring with.

"I'm leaving." You say because there's a bitter taste in your mouth. It's a one-more-time kind of thing. Just to remind you. He won't call you back, he won't go to your house, he won't _love you._ You have to let it go.

* * *

They told you to pick a path, a way to go in life. But you stood there in the middle and waited. For what, you don't know, but you waited. And everyone chose but you never did.

* * *

The End


End file.
